


Naughty Boy

by NightLily



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Butt Plugs, Daddy Kink, Insecurity, M/M, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightLily/pseuds/NightLily
Summary: While Din is away, Mayfeld starts to question his place in their relationship believing that Boba only puts up with him because Din is a bleeding heart.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Boba Fett, Din Djarin/Boba Fett/Migs Mayfeld, Migs Mayfeld/Boba Fett
Comments: 12
Kudos: 197





	Naughty Boy

This whole thing was the Mando’s fault, that’s Mayfeld’s story and he is sticking to it. Ever since Din and Boba dragged Mayfeld out of a near death situation, Mando’s idea, and invited him into their bed, also Mando’s idea, where Boba took them both in hand so to speak, feelings had awakened in Migs, giving him a feeling of safety that he hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever. If anyone had told the sharp shooter that one day the man who got him thrown in prison would drag him by his cock into bed with his equally hot but scary partner where Migs’d fall readily to his knees beside the Mando and call the older man Daddy while experiencing the best orgasms of his life, old him wouldn’t have even laughed, old him would have just shot them, one clean round to the head, can’t have that type of crazy loose in the galaxy but here he is.

The down side to this whole arrangement is that Mayfeld is waiting for the other shoe to drop. Din was the golden boy, doesn’t act out, gets along with everyone and listens to Daddy the first time _almost_ every time, and picks up strays like a cat picks up fleas. Migs never could bring himself to do that, he had to test the limits, see how far he could push. Up until now he had been fairly well behaved and what outbursts he’d had had been met with amusement but how long would that last? Boba Fett doesn’t strike him as the type of guy fond of back talk and definitely the type to hold a grudge, he’d wiped out the Hutt cartel for a years old grudge for fucks sakes, what hope did Mayfeld have when his natural state of being was difficult at best and argumentative at worst with a well documented ongoing disagreement with authority.

The tension had been building over the last week, if Migs was in the mood to be honest, ever since Din left to settle a matter with the other Mandalore, not that he wanted to examine that timeline too closely. That coupled with the fact that Boba Fett was starting to expand his influence on Tatooine and more high-ranking officials have been claiming more and more of Daddy’s time which meant less time to indulge a bratty sub and no Din to help run interference. And here we come to the crux of the issue, he knew where he stood with the younger bounty hunter but his welcome with D- _Boba_ is less certain, so if someone was to send Mayfeld packing it would be Boba and now would be a perfect time to do it, with no kind hearted Mando around to deploy those killer puppy dog eyes of his.

It’s not like he’d miss them or anything. So what if three times in the last hour he’d turned to share an observation about the simpering idiots that were here begging favours only to remember that Mando was off doing what Mando’s do when they have a group of people to, if not run than at least loosely guide. Or that just listening to the gravely rumble of Fett’s voice could lull him to sleep or make his cock harden with just a tone shift. Sure, it’s nice to fall asleep cradled against somebody’s chest like he was something precious and have someone who is happy to listen to me chatter about his observations and share a joke or two but he’d lived without all that before and would do so again.

But he was digressing, Migs had been at loose ends for about a week, working himself up so much that Fennec had started giving his the side eye. Enough was enough. If he was going to go out it was going to be on his terms. And damn it, he needed to know if he was only here because of Din or if those tender touches mean as much to Boba Fett as they do to Migs and the full day of meetings is providing a perfect opportunity to put his plan into action. 

He started small, fidgeting and sighing loudly while slouching against Boba’s legs. Pawing at his calf muscle under the robe, rubbing is face against the older man’s thigh. Muttering unflattering observations about the assembled bootlickers prompting a leather gloved hand to drop down to rub across his head, which was nice enough that the ex-imperial forgot for a moment what he was trying to accomplish. Fine he can admit it, he’ll miss this when it’s gone, if only to himself. After a particularly energetic wiggle Mayfeld froze, whole body locking up, eyes squeezing shut and cock brought screaming to attention in his loose-fitting pants.

Da- _Boba Damn it_ , liked to keep them looking soft and pretty while they were lounging in his court, something to do with the contrast between how his little ones were for him and the warriors they were on the battlefield, honestly Migs stopped listening after the butt plugs went in and speaking of, that last wiggle had just positioned the tip of his plug right on his prostate. Once sparks stopped shooting up his spine, Mayfeld chanced a quick glance at Boba, still distracted by the waste of space currently yapping on its knees, fine two can play that game.

It started out subtle, little rocks and grinds, just enough at first to keep his dick hard but after about twenty minutes it becomes less about making eye contact with the spineless idiots in front of him, wordlessly daring them to be the first to draw attention to the withering man at the new King of Tatooine’s feet and more about chasing his own orgasm. He’s so distracted by trying to get the perfect angle for just _one more_ thrust, that he completely misses the meeting being dismissed. By the time everyone starts to shuffle out of the throne room there is a noticeable wet spot on the front of his pants and Migs is maybe couple more grinds and a nipple pinch away from blowing his load, soft little moans slipping out after every other hip rotation.

Sadly, it was not to be as the next thing he knows is the sudden hard grip on the back of his neck and under one arm that hoists him to his feet like he weighs nothing and brings him eye to infuriatingly blank helmet, if it wasn’t for the answering bulge in Fett’s robes Migs would almost think he had finally pushed too far. Mayfeld licks his lips and rocks back a little to put pressure on the hands holding him in his half slouch, he is a simple soul and the display of strength just does things to him, again not a train of thought he wants to examine too closely at this point in time.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself Little One?” that firm voice sends a shiver down Mayfield’s spine. Migs knows that if he apologises, acts sweet and just asks for the attention he wants like he’d seen Din do oh so sweetly in this very room, instead of acting out like his nature demands then the other bounty hunter would bench the punishment and spend the night cuddling with him but there is still that small part of him that expects the worst, that wonders how long it's going be, all pretty promises aside, before he wears out his welcome and has it all ripped out from under him just as he has started getting used to being lo-cared for. The ex-imperial needed this, needed to know that he didn’t have to be perfect, that he didn’t have to change who he is, that he wouldn’t be rejected or worse.

Mayfeld squares his shoulders as best he can and plasters the best cocky look he could muster on his face, “If you want something done right, sometimes you have to do it yourself.”

The council had barely cleared the room before Boba Fett was pulling a smirking Mayfeld up and over the arm of the throne and finds himself face down across Fett’s lap, pants pulled down and a firm hand caressing the curve of his arse, kneading his cheeks so the pretty blue gem base of the plug glints enticingly in the light every time the sharp shooter kicked his legs, toes stretching, trying to gain purchase on the floor.

“It’s fun to tease Daddy during a meeting isn’t it Little One,” A firm slap punctuates the end of that sentence, driving the plug a little deeper, hole clenching on reflex, prompting Mayfeld to let out a noise somewhere between a curse and groan as he shoots a smug grin over his shoulder that he only half feels. He might not be able to see Boba’s eyes through the helmet but Migs could swear he could feel the gaze like a physical weight. “You redden up so nicely for me Sweetheart, just couldn’t wait a few more minutes, though could you? Greedy thing.”

Mayfeld was rocked forward again, cursing a blue streak, with the force of the next smack, grinding his hard cock into Boba’s thigh before looking back over his shoulder trying to give meet Boba's eyes with a challenge or at least the equivalent of his eyes, stupid fucking helmet,” You going to make me behave for you Fett? Gonna show me who’s boss?”

The older man sighed softly, rubbing the sting out of the skin laid bare in front of him, “I’m going to show you something and hopefully you pay attention but if not, we can do this as many times as you need. Daddy will look after you. Always. No matter how much you test me.” Migs desperately wanted to believe him but just couldn't bring himself to, not yet, so he settled on giving a disbelieving snort in answer. 

The next smack landed just under Mayfeld’s left arse cheek, right on the sit spot, it had him grasping at Boba’s calf as he tried to curl away with a whine from the hand that was now rubbing the sting away while also trying to push back into that gentle touch. Never let it be said that Migs wasn’t a little fucked up in his desires. His cheeks were pulled apart and a finger pushed the plug firmly into his hole, applying pressure on his sweet spot making his cock dribble some precum on Boba’s robe. More lube was drizzled down his crack before being worked in with shallow little thrusts, Migs has no idea where the lube came from and couldn’t catch his breath enough or organise his scattered brain cells to make a wise crack about it.

“You know what I think Little One?” The plug was drawn out so the flared middle was forcing his rim to stretch, Mayfeld tried to throw himself forward against Da… _Boba’s_ thighs to escape the slight burn but a firm hand at the back of his neck kept him planted right where Boba wanted him, before the plug is thrust back in hard and deep to grind against his prostate and makes sparks dance behind his eyes, making him howl, cock at full hardness and weeping,” I think you are going to be a good boy for Daddy and count for me, no coming until I say. Do you think you can do that for Daddy?” Three more sharp smacks land in quick succession before Boba goes back to rubbing, giving Mayfield time to answer.

Migs whimpered, just a little and could feel tears starting to gather, he rubbed his face against Daddy’s leg mumbling into it “Yes Daddy I’ll be good.” Hating himself a little for folding so quickly. The ex-imperial lay panting, blood rushing to his head, the heat raising off of his already reddening cheeks a nice counter point to the cold throne that his legs where still dangling over, he did an experimental shift, the plug shifted inside him just as his neglected cock made contact with a thigh.

“I..Ah..I don’t think I’m gonna to last!”

A hand reached between his legs and took a firm hold on his cock and squeezed, pushing back his impending orgasm. “Such a good boy for telling me,” A gentle hand caressed his back in reward and the praise sparked a warm fire in the mayfeld’s chest.” Here’s what we are going to do little one, I’m going to give you ten more strikes and you are going to count them for me, you will not come until I tell you to and at the end you can choose how you cum, if you cum before I say so you will spend the next week in a chastity cage. Do you understand?”

“Yes Daddy” Mayfield sighed and relaxed as much as he could, pushing his arse a little higher, presenting. The first strike made his toes curl “One Daddy”

The second and third had him clenching on his plug and desperately trying to gain any sort of friction to his poor cock. “Three Daddy!” By the sixth all he could focus on was the sting in his cheeks and the throbbing in his hole and cock. Tears were now running freely done his face, the sting in his backside intense and the feeling of embarrassment sharp counter point to the ache in his balls as every move rubs his weeping cock deliciously against the hard thigh underneath him. On the tenth his voice broke with a sob and he was twitching as he struggles not to cum all over Daddy’s robes. The hands were back, rubbing soothing circles on his skin while he was given a minute to calm. Mayfeld hiccuped as he tried to get his breath back, glancing over his shoulder at Boba. He’s not sure what look is on his face but it has Boba scoop him up to sit straddling Daddy’s thighs, chest to chest and face smooshed into Boba’s neck, muffling sobbing breaths and apologies. Fett had taken off his helmet at some point and was sprinkling kisses over the side of Mayfield’s face in between praise.

“Such a good boy, deep breaths for me,” a gentle hand cradles his face, turning him so a thumb can lovingly sweep under his eyes and wipe away tears that were still running, tender kisses dropped on his face, Migs was too drained to do anything but clutch at whatever of Daddy he can reach around his armour. After a few moments of calm Boba wraps his hand around the sharp shooters cock, it had softened a little in the aftermath of the by as soon as Boba give it a few firm strokes with a lube covered hand, it was almost back to full hardness, a pearl of precum glistening at the tip.

Boba regarded his little spit fire before asking in a teasing tone. “Your choice Little One, we can go to bed now,” another stroke that had Mayfeld thrusting up with a whine, chasing the sensation. “Or…”

“Your Cock!” Mayfeld didn’t even wait for Boba to finish before he started to beg, “Want it, want it in me when I cum, need you to fill me up.” Hands scrambling at Fett’s shoulders when he is lifted terrified for a moment that he was going to be sent to bed anyway but he was being re-positioned back over the older man’s thighs which doesn’t feel much better at the moment than being sentenced to bed with no release. Lips dance down Mayfeld’s back as he continues to struggle feebly “Easy Little One, Daddy needs to take the plug out first, have to finish getting your little hole ready for Daddy.”

“Yeahyeahyeah...please, hurry, need you, need to feel you.” He honestly felt no shame for begging at this point, his entire focus was on the slow slide of the plug being pulled out, his hole trying to clench around it to keep the full feeling, even through he knew he wouldn’t be empty long, that something better would soon be taking its place. He shivered when it finally popped out, hole clenching down hard on nothing, sending a little shock wave of sensation skittering through him. A finger circled his hole, rubbing and pressing just shy of enough pressure to penetrate. Once, twice more before it sank easily up to the second knuckle.

“Oh fuck, more, please more” it came out more as a watery plea than the demand that he tried to make it but thankfully the older man apparently thought he had waited long enough and more lube was poured on his puffy hole before the second and third finger were added, curled to glance off his prostate with every thrust making his poor cock twitch and dribble. Just when he thought Daddy was going to make him come on just his fingers, they were gone leaving Migs keening and trying to reach behind and grab the retreating arm. He didn’t have long to miss the feeling however as he was scooped back up, this time facing out towards the empty room.

The feeling of a slick head dragging back and forwards over his puffy hole had the younger man biting his lip and trying to slam himself down on that thick cock, the tight grip on his hips stopped him however making him curse Boba and anything else he can think of until at long last the head started to breach him. His mouth dropped open as he was forced to stretch further then the plug and even three fingers, if it wasn’t for the fact that Fett had applied slick to his own cock Migs didn’t think this would have been possible without a lot of discomfort. He was held suspended with just the head inside, just long enough to tease before he was dragged down inch by delicious inch until Daddy's balls meet his ass. The feeling of fullness was almost enough to send him over the edge if Boba hadn’t been expecting it and clamped off his orgasm again.

“Settle down sweet heart, when I take my hand away you can cum whenever you want,” a hand slides up until it was resting on Mayfeld’s throat, not gripping tight just enough to encourage him to arch back into Boba’s chest plate, the cold surface grounding him and increasing the pressure in all the right places. Kisses are peppered across his shoulders as he sits there impaled, shaking with the need to _move_ for one heartbeat…two..until at last the hand is _gone!_

His thighs burn as he bounces on Daddy’s cock, the feeling of that hard shaft striking his sweet spot, scrapping and stretching his inner walls has his eyes rolling back. Every breath is punched out of his chest with every down stroke. Boba's other hand reaches back around to his cock, massaging and stoking, coupled with the dull pain in his cheeks as they slap against Fett’s thighs and the steady hand on his throat makes him cum ridiculously quick, one of his own hands shoot up to grab at Boba’s wrist, not to pull it away but just to have something to hold while it feels like his brain melts out his ears.

He loses a bit of time between when he collapses like a puppet with its strings cut and when he finds himself braced over an arm of the throne, face pressed into the seat, firm hands holding his hips as Boba chases his own release, the strikes to his sweet spot just this side of painful, that grey area where too much pleasure becomes pain. Boba thrust a handful more times before Mayfield is being dragged back up and teeth are sinking into his should just shy of braking skin and Fett is coming, grinding into him like he can get deeper inside if he tries hard enough, Mayfield’s cock gives a pathetic twitch of interest but ultimately has to admit that he’s completely drained, all he can do is half hang in Boba’s grip while he gets filled, eyes flickering shut. The sensation of the older man withdrawing a minor footnote compared to the overwhelming urge to sleep.

The sharp shooter wakes sometime later to find himself cleaned, and tucked in to bed snuggled up against Daddy, head pillowed on one side of his chest and one of Boba’s arms holding him close. He is just about to drift back off to sleep when he makes out a figure laying in the same position on Boba’s other side staring, just as awake as he is. He can’t help the startled jump even though he knew almost immediately that the other person is Din.

“How are you so damn quiet!?” he hisses at Din, he doesn’t want to wake Fett, his arse couldn’t take another round so soon even if it is just a pleasant ache at the moment. As it is the arm Boba has around him tightens just little in a squeeze before relaxing again. Din just looks vaguely amused “Bounty hunter.” Prompting Mayfeld to roll his eyes.

Din wiggles a finger in a beckoning gesture, Mayfeld doesn't even play hard to get, he wiggles over and meets the Mandalorian half way, hand sliding into soft dark hair to pull him closer for a deep kiss, parting only when the demand for air was too strong. The whispered “Missed you Mando” met with a chuckle, another kiss and a whispered admission of the same.

“That why you were acting out during Daddy’s meeting?” Din playfully nibbled on his lower lip when they finally come up for air again, eyes sparkling with happiness when the sharp shooter groaned and lent his face on Boba’s stomach.

A sleep graveled voice cuts in before Migs can retort, “As happy as I am that you two are getting a long, unless one or both of you are planning to give me a blow job it’s time for sleep. Daddy has more meetings in the morning including finishing the one that was interrupted today.”

“Sorry Daddy!” Two voices chorus not sounding at all sorry, followed by dual yelps as Boba playfully slaps both of them as they scramble to snuggle back in, getting a kiss to the forehead each.


End file.
